Unbroken is the brutal yet tender life-changing story of Lou Zamperini. As the credits rolled at the end of the movie, the still and stunned silence was broken by claps of tribute and respect. The applause was not for the acting or the story; it was for the man and his transformational choices. A man is tortured by his Japanese captors, and later, because of his faith, he chooses to forgive them, thereby releasing himself from the self-imprisonment of bitterness and resentment. Just watching or hearing a story like that can be contagious.
This narrative stands in marked contrast to the majority of stories where the protagonist, being wrongfully abused or tortured, goes in search of revenge. There is something primal in us that finds satisfaction in vengeance stories. In that moment, we feel less powerless, less hopeless, less wronged. He, on the other hand, “was oppressed and treated harshly, yet he never said a word. He was led like a lamb to the slaughter. And as a sheep is silent before the shearers he did not open his mouth. Unjustly condemned he was led away” (Isaiah 53:7-8).
When the story is personal
Daily news assault us with stories of violence and oppression. Sometimes the stories are about people I don’t know; therefore, I can maintain a certain emotional distance. Other times the stories are personal, producing feelings of rage and horror. I’ve lived and worked in West Africa for the past fifteen years and the stories of violence in Nigeria are personal for me.
Although the violence in Nigeria is primarily the result of religious conflict, there are also factors related to land, economics, tribal identity, and politics. The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) estimates there are 900,000 internally displaced people in north-east Nigeria. How do Christians respond to the ongoing incidents of persecution and violence? How long can a person be expected to turn the cheek? Some Christian youth have taken to proactive aggression as a way of pushing back and protecting their families. Some preachers have given messages of retaliation from the pulpit.
But they are not the only voices. Sam Kunhiyop, a prominent Nigerian Christian leader, says, “‘Ultimately, I believe that violence is counterproductive and even self-defeating; it does not solve conflicts but actually creates more problems than existed before.’ He advocates instead for what he calls ‘creative resistance’” (African Christian Ethics, 2008, p.153). What might that look like?
In West Africa, a small team of counselors and trainers who serve with the Mobile Member Care Team (www.mmct.org) works to proactively build resilience in missionaries and church leaders and to train some of them as “peer responders.” Some of the missionaries working in Nigeria took that training and other trauma-related training further than we could ever have imagined.
One MMCT-trained peer responder is a missionary who has lived and worked in West Africa for thirty years. She, along with other missionary peer responders and Nigerian Christian leaders, has facilitated trauma-healing training modules for Nigerian churches. The training focuses on how one can heal from wounds of the heart; gives opportunity to express emotions related to those wounds; and facilitates a process of choosing to forgive one’s enemies. What follows now is a story told to me by this missionary. This is a story you didn’t hear in the news.
The untold story of Nigeria
After the Trauma Healing training in Nigeria, some church members said, “Now, we want to reach out to our former neighbors. In some cases, when we were attacked, some of our Muslim neighbors saved our lives and helped us to get out of the community safely. So we want to help them.”
Tensions had been high for years between Christians and Muslims in this part of town. On Sunday mornings, Christians often had to clean feces from the door of the church before going in to worship. When violence erupted in their city, their church was burned down. They rebuilt it. It was burned down again. Late in 2008, the Christians were driven from their homes by some of their neighbors who came from different tribes and religions. They were displaced and started meeting in a garage to worship together. They received the Trauma Healing training in June 2012. Then in July 2012 there was terrible flooding and many living in that part of town lost their lives or family members.
The response of this church might have been to rejoice in the suffering of those who had done them wrong. Instead, partly because of the resolve they had come to after the trauma healing workshop, they decided they wanted to help their former neighbors. They raised money and gave it for the purchase of relief supplies. Then, in October 2012, they went with some missionaries and an armed escort to deliver these supplies. My missionary friend watched the faces of her Nigerian friends as they were driving back into their old neighborhood—for the first time since they had been driven from their homes almost four years before. She saw fear, but she also saw determination to try to help their former neighbors.
As former neighbors, some friends and some enem
ies recognized each other; they embraced and shared their experiences against a backdrop of deep emotion. The relief items were given to designated community representatives who would ensure they were shared. Although some wounds remained fresh and unforgotten, the actions of giving and helping seemed to bring a kind of joy and strength that could never be found in acts of vengeance.
As the small team of missionaries and church members drove away, the Muslim policeman who had been sent along to protect them reflected, “Hmm, the very people that were chased out of their community are the same ones who have now come back to help their former neighbors in their time of need.”
“Jesus said, ‘Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they are doing’” (Luke 23:34).
“And when the Roman officer who stood facing Jesus saw how he had died, he exclaimed, ‘This man truly was the Son of God’” (Mark 15:39).
What can I do today?
As I hear stories of beheadings by ISIS, massacres by the Taliban, and kidnappings by Boko Haram, I am tempted to choose hatred. Somehow it feels stronger and more powerful than forgiveness. And yet, our Savior died for all people, including those who are currently in the grips of the evil one. The choice of this Nigerian church caused a Muslim police officer to ponder in amazement. I wonder what I can do today that will inspire someone to say, “Truly, I have seen the Son of God?”
